versatillite

I've been in and out of it, dissociating, crying, panic attacks...fun times. I've gone through four different types of birth control in the past 6 months and it's been quite the ride. Thanks ever so much to my prescription drug coverage for deciding that your profits are more important than my ability to function.

Hopefully this last attempt at regulating my hormones won't interfere too much with my efforts to find and keep a job.

Not done much reading, but as my mind clears, I hope to be able to enjoy the fics posting at the HP Time Travel Fest. Love the time travel trope, although, not so much in CC.

Trying to keep it together. That's all.

Despite growing support to the contrary, I will hold firm to my denial. Until I read the script I refuse to believe that this is really The Cursed Child. I don't want it to be. I refuse to accept this as canon. Just...NO!

Here's an article from the daily beast with the full plot.

::::SPOILERS::::
While I want to rant about a million things, can I just say, WTF Harry...after your upbringing, how could you say you wish Albus wasn't your son?

I kind of hate you right now JK.

The day after Memorial Day my grandmother had a stroke. We were lucky, because my uncle (who is a doctor) was visiting for the holiday and we were able to get her treatment within two hours of the onset. She's recovering pretty well.

That said, I live with her and have been caring for her more and more as she's able to do less and less. It's sad to see her in decline but I'm glad that I can be there for her.

So, I probably won't be very active for a while, but I'll keep reading and giving out comments.

This year has been...challenging, but that's life.

I'm pretty sure I died, went to heaven, and this fan vid was my reward for life.
I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did.
#SSatM

Severus Snape and the Marauders


They've also made the duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald, The Greater Good


***sorry for all the edits to this post. I'm posting from my phone and it took me a while to figure out how to embed the video***

So, I have been running behind with my recs. Excuses go here: grandma sick, reading my friend's original novel, wanting to play Skyrim, blah blah blah.

My email is also brimming with unread posts and fest fics...raaaarrg.

Since the last time I posted recs, I've read about 35 fics. I've also realized that posting all my recs at once is a bad plan. So, I'll try to stagger my recs. And actually post them, yeah, that would be good.

Also, I think I might finally go see the new Star Wars movie this week. The last time I braved the movie theater was when the first Hunger Games movie came out. Before that, I think it was the second Twilight movie, before that, the sixth Harry Potter movie. Yeah, I don't really like going to the movies. Mostly because I don't ever want to leave the house.

so behind the times. sigh.

Have a good weekend everyone, it's off to Skyrim for me.

Finally decided to post some recs.

I'll try to post my recs every Saturday, but we'll see how that goes. Along with posting recs for the fics I read for the week, I'll try to post a rec for a fic I read a while ago, but never got around to reccing.

I'm so behind.

I'm not making it out of the house much. It's dark and dreary and everything is piling on. I feel overwhelmed with anxiety. I'm not particularly looking forward to Christmas, in fact, I'm dreading it.

All I've been doing is playing video games. The video games are triggering too much anxiety. I feel so ridiculous because video games are supposed to be fun but I get overwhelmed so easily by the tiniest things. Its frustrating.

I think I need to just focus on my reading, that always calms me down (well, depending on what I read). Fluff. I need much fluffy fic.

I might as well not even try to pretend to be a functioning human being until after New Years.

**Not my characters. Not my world**
A/N: I edited out some stuff, so it's shorter but more consistent? I don't, know...I like it better this way.

The Boy Who Lived

Harry walked through the streets of London, anonymous. Another jean clad youth, strolling home from a night of pub crawling with friends. Ron sang a muggle song, tunelessly, drunkenly stumbling over his words and the pavement. Neville, leaning against Seamus for support and trying to join his voice to the song, kept forgetting the words, replacing them with his own gibberish. This elicited snorts and admonitions from Seamus, who was swaying beneath his own inebriation and Neville's added weight.

Harry focused on his trainers.

One foot in front of the other. Never drink this much again.

The Vampire

The vampire watched from the shadows. Stealthily stalking his intended meal, eyes fixed on the quiet one. Caught up in their own delirium, the others would never notice if he pulled the boy into a darkened alley.

Best to be safe. Best to watch and wait.

His patience was rewarded when the boys stepped into an alley to relieve their aching bladders. Luck was on his side, the quiet one was at the entrance to the alley. All he had to do was silently creep, faster than dazed eyes could perceive. Coming up from behind, he clasped the boy's mouth shut with one hand, wrapping his free arm around the boy's waist and in a moment they were out of the alley, climbing the opposing wall, landing on the roof. Dazzled creature in his arms, warm trickle of blood running down his chin.

So sweet. The quiet ones are always sweeter. A hint of bitter aftertaste. Perfection.

The Boy Who Died

His right hand was pressed against the cold brick wall, his left hand aimed a stream of steaming piss away from his trousers. His head was swimming, barely cogent of frozen fingers digging into his waist, a cold hand sealing his mouth. Not that he'd thought to scream. It was all a muddled dream, wasn't it? Leaning into the wall for support one minute, slumped against a cold shoulder the next. Lips pressed against his neck. No fear, only slipping slowly into a warm bath, melting into darker waters, drowning in oblivion. No pain. Only peace.

The Stranger

Harry opened his eyes. The last thing he remembered was a gentle warmth wrapping around him, filling him with peace. He woke with his own lips pressed against cold skin. Sucking in chilled blood, plunged into arctic waters, fully aware of both the night behind him and it's consequences.

“Enough,” the stranger pushed him away.

With a swish of black fabric, the stranger was gone and Harry was alone on the roof.

He had died...again, and this time, there was no coming back into the light.

The problem with you is that you have hope. That doesn't make me pity you. That doesn't make me envy you. That makes me afraid of you. Afraid that you could spread that hope, like it's catching. The last thing I want infecting me, is hope.